


and i haven't felt so alive (in years)

by icedmachinery, icemachine



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: M/M, New Year's Kiss, eh. kinda. as much as larry can kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedmachinery/pseuds/icedmachinery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine
Summary: "First new year after we got you out," Larry says, breaking Flex's silence, entering his vicinity like a savior. "How do you feel?"Flex thinks he has been standing here - underneath the moonlight, in the fresh chilled air, vulnerable and submissive - for several hours, but the passage of time is something that he hasn’t grown accustomed to yet.
Relationships: Flex Mentallo/Larry Trainor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	and i haven't felt so alive (in years)

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY 2020!!!!!!!!

"First new year after we got you out," Larry says, breaking Flex's silence, entering his vicinity like a savior. "How do you feel?"

Flex thinks he has been standing here - underneath the moonlight, in the fresh chilled air, vulnerable and submissive - for several hours, but the passage of time is something that he hasn’t grown accustomed to yet. Time is nebulous in the ANT Farm, everything is nebulous in the ANT Farm, and despite the fact that he has been out for - ten months, more time, more ticking noises and clock-glass shattering - Flex still can feel the cold threat of the Bureau’s breath against his skin. Flex has been standing here for several hours. Larry is standing next to him, now, like a savior. Larry has been standing next to him for (five) (ten) (fifteen) several seconds (uncountable years), and Flex feels beating waves of both relief and terror crash into him.

And the moon seems to be staring directly at them, her gaze a sign of approval, and Larry seems to be gazing directly at him, his stare a sign of comfort - of  _ comfort.  _ Larry is the only one - the  _ only one  _ who can hold understanding in his hands. He has been there, he has felt the torture. The trauma is something that never leaves you.

Finally, he replies: “I don’t.”

“That’s okay, too,” Larry says. “When I left the ANT Farm, I didn’t feel much either. Relief, yes, but… it took me months to get used to it. To understand that I wasn’t going to wake up in a cell again. I just shut off, I guess.”

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t awful. It was what I needed at the time.”

Flex says nothing more, only closes his eyes. He’s trying not to cry, and Larry can tell, Larry  _ knows.  _ Larry seems to be harmonic with everything, entirely in tune with every flicker of emotion, every spark of fear that feels like electrical torture. It’s funny; he doesn’t necessarily look like it, instead he looks reserved, hardened, but Larry is kind. Even after the pain, Larry is kind.

Larry Trainor is the kind of person that is easy to love.

“Aren’t you cold?” Larry asks, as if he can hear Flex’s inner thoughts, and Flex can clearly decipher the tone of his voice: concern, in immense saturation. “I’d give you my jacket, but, well… I don’t think it would fit you.”

“A little bit.”

“Then you should come inside, celebrate with the rest of us.”

Flex shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I like it out here.”

“Then I’ll stay with you,” Larry tells him. “Rita’s trying to put the 2020 glasses on me, even though I’ve said no every year after ‘77. At least now I’ll have an excuse for missing it.”

Flex laughs. It is genuine, like sunlight. “I’d like to see you in them. That’d be funny.”

“Trust me, I look ridiculous.”

“I don’t think you could ever look ridiculous.” 

This freezes Larry, and Flex wonders if he can feel it too - the warmth despite the cold, the alluring presence between them, a magnetic pull, the feeling of their bodies being made for one another in this moment. And - and he must feel it, because he’s moving closer, slowly, like he’s trying to decide if he should allow himself this kind of vulnerability. If any move is going to be made, Flex will have to initiate it.

He doesn’t mind. 

“ _ Larry, _ ” he breathes, grasping one bandaged hand and - and Larry flinches when Flex places his other hand on Larry’s face, along his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away. He only leans in, pants, as if he has craved this.

“I can’t kiss you,” he says, like he forgot his radioactivity in the moment. “It’d kill you, and everyone here, I’m sorry—”

“Yeah,” Flex says. “But I can kiss  _ you. _ ”

Larry submits, continues panting, shaking so slightly as Flex presses his forehead against Larry’s forehead, then presses his lips against the bandages that cover Larry’s mouth. The barrier is uncomfortable, but again: Flex doesn’t mind, only values the closeness. Their fingers entwine, their bodies inextricable in distance.

“We’re free,” Flex breathes into Larry’s neck, sudden, gentle. “ _ We’re free. _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> im crtignynrfn i love them anyway pls kudos + comment if enjoyed


End file.
